Lately, when I get in my car and begin the drive to or from the hospital I find myself being uncharacteristically cautious. When someone taps their brakes in front of me or takes advantage of a super-stale yellow light, my heart freezes up in fear.

Usually my logical mind assures me that the risk when getting in your car is pretty low. I say, “You’re not living in some ABC special. What are the chances that you’d be thinking about getting in an accident and it would actually happen?”. It’s a similar thought process to the one I had going into Ramona’s pediatric appointment, “Just relax and wait for the results. No sense worrying. What are the chances that something is seriously, catastrophically wrong?”.

But geez, we seem to be on the long side of the odds lately. So I’m wondering if Andy will make it home from work alive. I’m assessing Simon for signs of heart failure. I woke up this morning convinced by a dream that one of our cats had died in the night. No one seems safe, least of all Ramona.

I’ve been working on a very mild cold. During Ramona’s brief stay at home, I was holding her and I felt a sneeze coming on. Because it takes both hands to hold her and the tubes, etc. I had no choice but to just turn my head and send all those germ-infested droplets into the air surrounding her. My first thought was, “I might have just killed her”. Now that she is back at the PICU and has in fact developed a mild cold herself, I’m just mortified that it might seriously affect her recovery. I have to remind myself that I’m not that powerful. If God intends for Ramona to survive, he’s not going to let a little virus from me get in the way. And if it’s part of his plan that she not survive, then my sneeze is just an “instrument of His will”. I only have to try my best, cover my mouth if I can, wash my hands, etc.

But after the almost unbelievable year we’re having, for good and bad, I see drama around every corner. It makes it hard not to hope for the Hollywood ending: Ramona miraculously recovers, stunning the medical world, becomes a world-renowned geneticist who finds a cure for chromosomal disorders and cures herself as her first patient! On the flip side, I have to admit that I’ve also considered the Sundance ending: Ramona slowly declines, tearing apart our family, driving Andy into the arms of another woman and me into a drug-induced crime-spree, resulting in my life-long imprisonment. Roll credits. Does it sound like I’m losing it?

I am. The only peace I find this morning is by resting in my own powerlessness. That nothing I think or don’t think, nothing I do or don’t do is likely to change the course of Ramona’s life. And if it does, it’s part of His plan for her, not mine. That all God requires is that I do my best. That I do my part as her mother and protect, love and nuture her. And Ramona will try her best to grow and heal. And we’ll pray.

A note on Ramona’s medical progress: Ramona is doing pretty well this morning. Her weight gain is back on track and although her saturations are not as high as they were pre-discharge, they are good enough to earn her a ticket to the cardiac floor sometime soon. Also, the final read they did comparing her cardiac echo post-surgery and upon admittance to the ER over the weekend show no difference in the flow she has to her lungs, which is good news. Her team has written up a plan to wean her from the methadone and ativan over a two wek period, which is much slower than their last attempt. Please pray that she would continue to gain weight and get stronger. Please pray that her doctors will wisely discern when the time is right for her to come back home with us.

Thanks. Jane.